I'm slowly recovering after the Caucasus. I'm waiting for my young and flexible selective memory to deal with a few traumas I experienced up there; to suppress it and to leave only the public banya, the moonscape near Yerevan and professor Tatyana, whose kolkhoz soul was just like our Olga's. After Georgian hardest winter ever I yearn for sunlight, I literally have a craving for summer. Meanwhile, here in Warsaw it looks like winter is going to rain itself to death.
I'm dreadfully sleepy, as if I'd drunk or fooled around all night. My missish excitement caused by yoga classes with an unearthly instructor made me unable to fall asleep and woke me up before 7. Her face, her body. Nature can do that. And yoga will crown the work. Too bad she's not a public figure – I would post her photo below.
I don't know how to help people around and myself with the late winter collapse. The Shrove Thursday and other harmful pleasures don't seem to have gotten us right. In my case M83's concert was supposed to do that, but then there was their accident and the show was cancelled. I expected yoga to help as well, but you already know how I ended up. So it looks like I'm left with only one thing. Alas! No stable partner, no sex. So I'll stick to my desperados instead.
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